


Milk In My Coco Puffs

by CoffeeAndConjunctions



Series: A Relationship As Told By Meals [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Poor decisions are made when hot dudes are shirtless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndConjunctions/pseuds/CoffeeAndConjunctions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So not a boob thing?”</p><p>A chocking sound comes from her left, Steve looks like he's swallowed his tongue (she doesn't look at Natasha because reasons) and Barnes clutches the bowl to his chest like a surprised grandmother being mugged, shaking his head left to right.</p><p>“No, Ma'am.”</p><p>“Right, duh. Okay, yeah.” If Thor was a merciful God he would strike her down with lighting now (briefly she considers asking Heimdal to open the Bifrost in a desperate escape.) And because at this point she's no filter mode she cocks back her arm and punches his shoulder and lets out a laugh that would make a hyena pack proud.</p><p>“Well then, thanks Buckaroo!”</p><p>Buckaroo—fucking kill her now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk In My Coco Puffs

ii. Milk in my Coco Puffs

Stumbling out of bed at the ass crack of dawn per Natasha's request (read: probably payback for using all of her _super special_ coffee beans in a desperate moment to keep her science minions caffeinated, disguised as 'self defense' lessons) she sticks her legs into a part of leggins, then has to do it again when she realizes they are inside out (at leas her shoes weren't on yet), puts on a sports bra on top of her regular one and tames her fizzy hair into a high bun. Tucking her feet into a new pair of sneakers she wrestles on an oversized t-shirt (which has Mew-mew plastered across her chest) and makes her way to the kitchen.

Briefly she toys with idea of a hearty breakfast but has the gross mental picture of puking it all out if Natasha makes her get on the treadmill. So cereal it is—searching the cabinet she pulls out, Cheerios, Honey Bunches of Outs and Cookie Crisps (she almost settles for these) when she spies the Coco Puffs at the very back. On tip toes she manages to bring it down and is tipping the cereal into a bowl she glances down at her watch. Three minutes till she was scheduled to meet her doom, putting the boxes back she tucks a spoon in her mouth and splashes some milk on her cereal before dashing to the elevator—she can eat on the way. Its a smooth ride down and she's shoveling down the cereal like her life depends on it when it dings and metal doors open.

The Tower's gym is a thing of beauty according to Barton, most likely because it has a shooting range, but she finds that nearly all the tower's residents use the facilities (Bruce in the evenings for yoga, often joined by Pepper when she is in town are the most regularly scheduled attendees) with the exception of Jane and herself because Jane was naturally svelte and she was allergic to sweat that does come from a good tan or a little afternoon delight.

Still in a moment of weakness she'd agreed to let Natasha show her a thing or two about self-defense.

* * *

 

The sound of a body hitting the mat echos along the hall before she reaches the gym makes her aware that it is currently occupied. Rounding the corner she is not prepared for the sigh that greets her—spoon in mouth, milk dribbling down her chin she stares transfixed at bares expanse of Barnes chest. He's ducking a blow from Steve (who's still clothed torso she ignores in favor of the peep show Barnes is giving) and it engages all the muscles of his back, they tense and expand beneath his skin.

Steve's style is aggressive, constant forward momentum (he's unrelenting in his attacks and it's a real contrast to the controlled appearance he keeps in public) but all of it seems futile against the fluid movements of Barnes body, he bobs and weaves beneath punches but when Steve finally manages to grab on for a take down Barnes twists his body in a familiar move-legs wrapped around Steve's neck before he twists in the air and sends the super soldier flying (landing neatly on his feet with a wicked grin on his face—it's all teeth and tension)

“I'd say I'm sorry to be late but it looks like you've kept yourself entertained.”

A yelp leaves her mouth before she can really register Natasha's arrival—she looks smug, arms crossed and brow raised in her signature pose—for a brief moment her eyes meet the steel blue ones of the man whose goodies she'd been shameless in admiring before he ducks his head and a curtain of hair covers his face as he leans over to help Steve rise.

“Hey Nat, Darcy—just in time to save me from another ass kicking—we were just about done if you wanted the mats. ”

Hands at his waist Steve strikes the Superman pose, million watt smile in place as if getting his ass handed to him was the best thing single sliced bread. Barnes had migrated over to his shirt and shoes, tucking on the long sleeved shirt.

Damn, just damn.

His abs flexed when the shirt came over his head and she had to look away, but looking away meant looking at Steve (whose bbfl she had been eye fucking) or Natasha who looked at her like she was a fly caught in her web.

So she does the only thing she can, takes another mouthful of coco puffs (which are soggy now, gross) and nods her head in thanks. The russian exchanges pleasantries for another moment, Barnes has joined them now standing beside Steve. Avoiding eye contact at all costs because she had been oogling, he saw her oogling pretty blatantly (Natasha saw her, oh God she'd never hear the end of this from Barton) and chowing down on coco puffs Darcy is sure she's never looked more ridiculous. And this was coming from the girl who had once put on a Spice Girls puppet show (granted that decision had a lot of tequila guiding it)

A shadow looms over her, because she's small enough that pretty much everything looms over her (fucking Jane was a inch taller) and she flickers her eyes up to look at Barnes face (with its stupidly amazing bone structure and those lips—oh God, he's biting them! He's...he's holding out his hand.) Blinking at the appendage she must have a perplexed look on her face because he just sighs and leans closer, hand hovering nearer and nearer (is this a boob thing, please let this be a boob thing. No wait, bad Darcy.) before he's gently tugging the bowl out of her hands.

“I'll take this up for you.”

Oh, right.

“So _not_ a boob thing?”

A chocking sound comes from her left, Steve looks like he's swallowed his tongue (she doesn't look at Natasha because reasons) and Barnes clutches the bowl to his chest like a surprised grandmother being mugged, shaking his head left to right.

“No, Ma'am.”

“Right, duh. Okay, yeah.” If Thor was a merciful God he would strike her down with lighting now (briefly she considers asking Heimdal to open the Bifrost in a desperate escape.) And because at this point she's no filter mode she cocks back her arm and punches his shoulder and lets out a laugh that would make a hyena pack proud.

“Well then, thanks Buckaroo!”

Buckaroo—fucking _kill_ her now.

Let it end.

And as if the universe is finally giving her what she wants Darcy finds herself flat on her back with a metric fuck ton of Super Soldier straddling her—milk pooling beside her head—he had her wrists clutched in his metal hand and the flesh one is tangled in her hair.

“Holy shit!”

“Bucky!”

Steve doesn't make a grab for Barnes like she thinks he will, instead he waits (probably because surprising a brainwashed, ex POW is a bad idea, right up there with _fucking_ _**punching** one_!) but he doesn't have to, shaking his head like a wet dog Barnes lifts himself off of her bringing her back to her feet in a smooth motion before letting go of her hand as if she'd burned him.

Without a word he leaves the gym, Steve hot on his heels after he calls out a rushed sorry over his shoulder. Rubbing her wrists, hopping to increase the circulation Darcy can't do a thing but watch them walk away, the echoes of Bucky following them out the double doors.

“That was stupid.” Natasha seems unruffled as always.

“I panicked.”

“I know, that's why we'll train. You need discipline.”

“I need a muzzle.”

“You aren't my type sweetheart.”

“Fuck off, Nat. I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”

(It was a lie, she had been consumed by nothing but Barnes and his stupid, full lips. Oh and the thought of him snapping her neck. No biggie.)

“With training you could prevent that.”

Not dignifying that blatant lie with an actual sentence she just snorts and crosses her arms.

“Alright, not from _Barnes_ but I doubt you'll be complaining about him getting you on your back.”

“Natasha!”

“What? Are you serious 'boob thing' because that was about a subtle as Steve.”

“Really? You're one to talk, when was it exactly that you figured out green was your color?”

“Darcy.”

“Not so fun when someone's doing it to you, huh?”

(She was officially suicidal, pestering the Widow when she'd come down here to voluntarily take a beating from her.)

“On the mats, Lewis.” Natasha smiles, an honest to god smile.

(Fuck.)

* * *

 

Later when she limps back to the kitchen for a bag of peas to put on her pride, okay on her elbows (sore from the various take downs she'd tried to prevent from cracking her skull with the Widow's instructions) she sees Barnes sitting at the table fiddling with a protein bar and what looks to be one of Tony's signature smoothies. Approaching the table with every intentions of apologizing she finds the words wont come, so she just lingers near him.

Protein bar and smoothie slide across the table toward her, Barnes tucks a stray bit of hair behind his ear, he looks up at her from his seat (those baby blues look so uncertain and pleading) and she's taken aback when she realizes that he's extending an olive branch. Slowly raising her hand, making sure he can see what her plan is she lays her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before reaching for the offerings.

“Thanks, Barnes.”

“My name is Bucky, Ma'am.”

Smiling so wide she can feel her cheeks straining she tries to hide it behind a sip of the smoothie.

“Alright then, Bucky.”

(She doesn't give him leave to say her name, mostly because this ma'am thing was hitting a kink she didn't know she had but also because of the hint of a smile that followed.)

  


  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I hate soggy cereal. Hope you enjoyed this installment.


End file.
